


Just hours before me

by Marishna



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: College Student Stiles, Derek Loves Stiles, Established Relationship, M/M, POV Stiles, Pizza, Texting, Texts From Last Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 23:10:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4541037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marishna/pseuds/Marishna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That end-of-term/semester final push through the thousand-mile zombie!stare at the computer monitor. </p>
<p>(Based somewhat on my remembrances of pulling all-nighters to finish my papers and feeling like I wasn't in my own body by the time I was done the next morning)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just hours before me

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from sophia_clarkon LJ: I'm craving your dick and a microwave pizza
> 
> Leave me [prompt](http://marishna.livejournal.com/805275.html)!

Stiles didn't remember sending the text when he woke up the next morning, ink on his forehead and a piece of paper stuck to his cheek with drool. He sat upright at his desk and groaned from the ache in his back... and head and ass and just about everywhere else.

He vaguely remembers saving his final paper for the term around five but it was _definitely_ going to need a once-over before handing it in to make sure he didn't end up face planting on the keyboard or waxing poetically about the shine of a tangerine in the early morning light.

Something he remembered spending at least ten minutes contemplating around four that morning when the sun started to come up and shine through his apartment window.

He pissed and splashed some water on his face (didn't bother scrubbing the ink off because it was kind of like a mark of war), then smacked his lips together and decided he _desperately_ needed to brush his teeth, even if there was no one else there to appreciate the effort or complain about the half-heartedness of it. No, Derek was in Beacon Hills and wouldn't care about Stiles' morning breath for another week.

All the more reason to get this paper taken care of.

Stiles sat down at his desk, checking to make sure he had time, and read through the final changes he made just two hours earlier. He made a couple minor edits to his conclusion, checked that his cover page was style-appropriate and saved it. Emailed a copy off to the professor and then set about printing one off, too, because his professor like to torture his students by making them go to campus to drop a hard copy off in his mailbox.

Stiles shook his toner cartridge twice, whispered nice things to it, and fist pumped in triumph when the whole paper finished printing with only some minor fading on the last few pages. He stuck it in a cover sheet, changed his shirt and wearily his tiny off-campus apartment.

The drive to campus was short and quiet, as it was still too early for any normal students to be awake. Only a few exams were left for anyone to write and, of course, they were the ones Stiles TA'd for so he was stuck hanging around for those to roll in over the next few days, then he could pack up and leave for home. 

Today he'd celebrate his own end of term with sleep. Lots and lots of sleep.

Once he submitted his paper with a couple hours to spare he contemplated getting some coffee, then almost literally kicked himself while walking across the quad. He made that mistake sophomore year, never again.

He did stop for a breakfast sandwich and juice from his favorite deli on the way back to his apartment. Flirted with Janine, the elderly owner, and called her his superstar when she slipped a croissant in with his order at no charge. 

He sat in the Jeep outside for a second, enjoying the freeing feeling of being _done_ while he savoured the croissant and watched the street come to life around him. 

His usual alarm went off on the drive home, reminding him that this was a weird day, and Stiles slid it off quickly but not before he noticed an overlooked text alert from Derek.

As soon as he pulled into his space at the apartment he opened it, already grinning. 

**Derek:** Long night, I take it? ;p  
 _sent at 4:42am_

Derek using smily faces in texts was the weirdest and most adorable thing Stiles had seen in a long time and he loved it.

But Stiles frowned as he scrolled up, wondering what the hell Derek was referring to. 

**Stiles:** I'm craving your dick and a microwave pizza.   
_sent at 3:37am_

Ah, right before the great tangerine contemplation of four o'clock.

**Stiles:** Don't even remember sending that but don't doubt it's true. Finally done, just turned in last paper. Sleeping for seventeen yrs now.

Stiles climbed out of the Jeep and trudged up three flights to his apartment. He showered, tugged on clean boxers and a t-shirt and crawled into bed. 

He was asleep within minutes and didn't hear the ping from Derek's reply.

***

Stiles was beyond disoriented when he woke up to the sound of his door buzzer going off. The light in his room was wrong and he was really warm. He must have slept hard because his body ached when he tried to disentangle himself from his sheets. His hair was sticking up every which way because he slept on it wet and his shirt was rucked up around his chest.

He stumbled out of his room, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and shuffled across the apartment to the door that he opened without checking who it was. What criminal buzzed to be let in to commit a crime?

Stiles' mouth dropped open and he stared at his visitor. 

"Uh," he grunted eloquently.

Derek grinned back at him, with his overnight bag in one hand, and a large takeout pizza box in the other. 

"It's not microwave, but it's the best I could do," Derek said with a shrug and Stiles felt his heart thump a little harder in his chest.

"I think I can deal with takeout pizza and penis," Stiles said in a rush as he reached out, grabbed Derek by his shirt collar and dragged him inside.


End file.
